


Severus/Sirius: White Knuckles

by salazar_kat



Series: Background fics to 'Snacks and Letters' [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazar_kat/pseuds/salazar_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus and Sirius at Grimmauld Place, loathing each other</p>
            </blockquote>





	Severus/Sirius: White Knuckles

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Snacks and Letters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/216898) by [salazar_kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazar_kat/pseuds/salazar_kat), [Sionna_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sionna_Raven/pseuds/Sionna_Raven). 



Harry Potter has left the building, I think dryly, as I hear the door shut behind him here in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. That's why Black's worn grin has faded. I glare at him and he glares at me. Arthur walks in with his prim little smile. “I hope you two are getting along,” he says cheerfully. I glance at Black and we instantly look away from each other.

I look down at my tea, and grip the mug so tightly my knuckles are white. My right hand encircles my wand. I see Black sip his Butterbeer with my peripheral vision. I feel Arthur's hand on my shoulder and I twitch away. He sighs and seems to give up, leaving the two of us to our mutual loathing in peace.

The Mark burns. I almost smell cordite but know it is untrue. It is a danger scent that I can't smell. A sight I don't need to see. My hand grips my arm where it is branded. I should know better. Surely enough Black says, “I saw that, Snape. Thinking of running like a whipped dog to your craven master? Go ahead, I'll catch you. You know I will. Leave. I dare you.”

Dumbledore expects me to accept this? To treat Sirius Black like a friend or at least a colleague? He remains the most repellent person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. To work with him even unwillingly is to eat Bubotuber pus and smile doing it. Is this not enough? I have to move and I want to smite Black. The only worthy child of Orion and Walpurga Black was Regulus. The other offspring is a hairy slug with pungent fumes. That he is also clever just makes it worse.

It is a demeaning and demanding situation. I decide to use a little tongue lashing of my own. “What would you know of it, Black? Enjoying this little rest home for retired traitors?”

He stands and his wand springs to his hand. How predictable. I stand as if to defend myself. He hasn't the nerve. If he has, I have twice his nerve and every bit his skill. He takes risks when there's no reason. I take calculated risks. No need to ask who is more intelligent.

Thinking he may not survive the second war does not afford me any satisfaction ... strange, That I must go to the Dark Lord's side makes my stomach a pit of acid. I narrow my eyes. I have every reason to wish him nothing but ill. He betrayed his friend, and mine, and their child. He led the Dark Lord to Lily. I should hex him to dirt. But I betrayed Lily in my way. I can feel my forehead crease with strain, my lip curl. He recovers.

“I smell a traitor and a rat. And a greasy bit of filth identical to the muck on my shoes this morning.” Sirius Black the mongrel is howling against the wind.

“How ever did that happen? Where did you get it? Here I thought you weren't allowed out of your cage to slime up your shoes ... the cage you built yourself.” I love goading him and am glad to see the small warmth vanish. If I had another lifetime, perhaps then I would give the blasted enemy a chance to explain.

I have seen too much self-justification among Death Eaters to want to witness more. I smirk at him, That always enrages him more than anything else – except being called incompetent or a coward. I save those wounding words for another occasion. Some exact time when they will sting the most precisely.

I slip out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the door, passing Walpurga's portrait. She is shrouded and does not call me a “filthy son of a blood traitor and a Muggle.” Again I see a trace of Sirius in my mind, telling me against all reason not to loathe him.

I am not indecisive. I choose to let him rot at my heels as he follows me to the door. “Snivelling sneak, go back where you belong!” he snarls. I decide to smirk at him again just one more time before Disapparating. I see his grey eyes flash with fury. And then I am gone.


End file.
